


well, if you carry on this way

by adozendays



Category: House of Wax (2005)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, F/M, Flirting, Rough Sex, Sexual Tension, Spanking, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:01:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24621271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adozendays/pseuds/adozendays
Summary: Bo meets a little firecracker that he wouldn’t mind keeping around.
Relationships: Bo Sinclair/Original Female Character(s), Bo Sinclair/You
Comments: 7
Kudos: 78





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The reader can be interpreted as bi-racial (which was my intention) but I don't wanna tell you how to live your life.

The first thing Bo noticed was the cascade of curls curtaining your face as you bent over slightly to peer through the gas station’s window. He then noted what appeared to be your entirely bare back and then how your Daisy Dukes clung to your body. You were such a little thing, too. Bo knew that he could pick up you and throw you over his shoulder with ease.

There were other people gathered around the station with you. A boy and a girl, both of them in the 18-20 range. Tall, blond and wearing matching t-shirts for a JOHNSON FAMILY REUNION. When you stood up, Bo noted that your ‘shirt’ was a daisy patterned bandana tied around your chest, exposing so much of your tawny skin that it was almost sinful. You looked at least old enough to drink. Or so he hoped, so he could whack it with a clear conscience tonight.

“Finally, someone!” the boy whined, Bo forcing himself to smile even though he wanted to punt the twerp’s head clear across town.

“Hey, we’re looking for whoever runs this place. We kinda need some help,” you said, stepping in front of the group, Bo silently declaring you the leader of this little pack.

“What’s goin’ on, miss?” Bo asked, laying on the good old boy charm. You smiled, which was a damn pleasing sight.

“Our parents car broke down a few miles out of town. The tire fucking exploded, and the axle might be fucked up too,” you explained.

Bo looked you up and down as he pondered what to do, taking only a few moments before he answered. “How about I send my associate out there to check on the car and you three can just hang around town, though I’d like at least one of you to stick close by, just in case.” Before you could say anything, the other two were gone, the girl muttering something about checking the probably lame house of wax.

“Guess that leaves me, Sir,” you said, somehow making ‘Sir’ sound downright wicked. You wound a curl around your finger and Bo wondered how it would feel to pull it and make it spring back into shape. Bo grinned and went into the shop, gesturing for you to follow him inside. You gave him the information he would need to relay to Lester and once that was done, Bo turned his attention back on you.

“So, tell me, little lady, how did you folks wind up around these parts?” Bo asked, leaning against the wall. You were leaning against a table, your arms crossed under your breasts.

“Didn’t you see the shirts?” you teased, making Bo smirk.

“Why don’t you have one?” he asked, now thinking that maybe you were a friend or girlfriend of one of the two twits who had bailed as soon as possible.

“Not a Johnson,” you said, bitterness barely creeping into your tone. There was a pause before you filled in the blanks. “Those are my half-siblings. Same mom. Different dads. It’s my stepdad’s family. Hence why I didn’t get a t-shirt.”

That ain’t right, Bo thought, forcing himself not to frown too deeply. “Well, you’re much too pretty to be something as boring as a Johnson,” he said, which made you smile again. You laughed and told him your last name, something vaguely French sounding that suited you perfectly.

“Do you have a first name?” he wondered, and you smirked, brushing some of your hair off of your shoulder.

“I tell you mine, you tell me yours,” you replied, moving to stand a little closer to Bo, close enough for him to see your hard nipples under the bandana.

“Bo Sinclair,” he answered, holding out his hand for you to shake. Your hand was so much smaller than his, smooth and soft. He wondered how much bigger his hand was compared to yours, tempted to grab your hand back and compare. But he didn’t, instead listening as you your first name, recognizing it from one of the old movies that he had seen a thousand times.

“So, tell me, Bo Sinclair, does anyone actually run the pet store? Because I wanted to meet those puppies, but the door was locked.” The image of you playing with the puppies was a pretty one, Bo had to admit to himself, and the way you were looking at him…well he couldn’t deny you such a simple thing.

“I can get you in there, babygirl,” Bo offered, closing the distance between the two of you and offering you his arm.

“Oh, so we’ve moved on to ‘babygirl’ already?” you smirked, taking his arm. You were barely up to his shoulder, bringing thoughts of just carrying you off to his mind once again. “Does that mean I get to call you ‘daddy’?”

“You’re a little firecracker, aren’t you?” Bo speculated, which made you snicker.

“Oh, Daddy, you have no idea.”

–

It was almost a shame that you wound up in the chair under the garage.

The two of you had talked while you played with the puppies. He figured out that you were old enough to drink, as you were ‘almost 22’, to quote you. You were working as a waitress and had an associate degree, but you were thinking of getting a bachelors. You loved to dance. You were the odd one out in the family, almost like a tagalong. Unwelcome. But they were all you had, aside from some extended family out in New Orleans that you rarely saw. Your father and twin sister were both dead, leaving you as the only reminder of your mother’s first marriage.

Bo couldn’t imagine a life without Vincent. For better or for worse, they were a part of each other and had done every and anything they could to not be separated. He didn’t know how he could go on without his twin, despite everything. It made him feel sorry for you, deep down.

As you had let the puppies crawl all over your lap, you had admitted to thinking the town was charming. That you could see yourself settling down and raising kids in a place like this. Bo had pictured you coming into the gas station, all swollen up with his baby and carrying a toddler on your hip. You said that you would do everything your mother had never done and nothing that she had. 

_You’d be a good little mama;_ Bo had teased, and you had ducked your head in an attempt to hide the shy smile on your face.

But alas, all good things must come to an end.

You had fought him hard, which he appreciated in his own way. If you had fallen limp and let him tie you up, it wouldn’t feel right.

“Motherfucker! Let me go! I’ll rip your fucking throat out with my teeth, shitbag!” you screamed as he bound your legs with tape, your body thrashing violently in the chair. You had hurt your ankle while trying to run from him, but that wasn’t stopping you from trying to kick the shit out of him. You had managed to scratch his face a little, which hadn’t even stung all that much. Your words were venomous, your face the perfect picture of rage. Even your tits threatening to break free from the bandana didn’t lessen how you looked so terrifying and beautiful all at once.

“Those are some ugly words coming out of a pretty mouth,” Bo said, barely dodging your head as you tried to headbutt him.

“Fuck you. When I get out of this, I’m going stuff your balls down your throat and jam your cock up your ass!” You spat at him, which only made Bo chuckle. One hand shot out to pin your torso to the chair as he fiddled with the tape. Soon, your torso was taped down as well, though you were still wiggling around.

“You’re a feisty one, Lil Bit,” Bo whispered as he pressed his torso against your chest, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, stroking your cheek as he pulled his hand back. “I like that.”

The scream you let out in response actually hurt his ears, the primal, angry sound making him reel back. “Lil Bit, that wasn’t very nice of you.” He grabbed a knife and surged forward, holding it to your throat. “You gonna be a good girl?” You whimpered and nodded, Bo grinning wolfishly. He kissed the top of your head, taking in the sweet scent of your shampoo. A curl found itself between his thumb and index finger and he finally got to see what it looked like to tug it and see it spring back into shape.

But your eyes were still full of hate as he got the tube of glue. “Too bad I gotta do this. You have such a pretty mouth.” He ran a thumb over your bottom lip, smearing the sweet-smelling lip balm on your mouth over his finger.

_Dr. Pepper. You want a taste, Bo? You had giggled and leaned in, teasing him with the idea of a kiss before you pulled back and dug the tube out of your pocket._

Bo leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours as he blew on your mouth to dry the glue. He gently stroked your hair for a few moments before pulling back, his eyes dark with desire and other things that even he could not name. He kissed your forehead, looking into your eyes as you glared at him. Upstairs, he could hear some shouting and loud noises. “Be right back, darlin’.” You began to thrash again as Bo left you in the room, alone in the dark.

–

When Bo finally got back to the gas station, it was nearly dawn. Your family had been a lot of trouble, as it turned out. Your stepfather, mother and sister had been upstairs, and after a three on one fight, he had wound up chasing the sole male of the group, leaving the two women behind so he could eliminate the biggest threat first. They had gotten ahold of his keys and since both of your siblings had been wielding knives from the underground room, Bo knew they had been in there.

But now, every member of your family was taken care of. You were the last one left and Bo was going to hunt for you as soon as he got some things he needed. With your ankle, you wouldn’t have gotten far. Lester hadn’t seen you out in the woods, which just confirmed Bo’s suspicions.

“Mom, is that you? Chloe?” you called out weakly when Bo opened the door. “Please…help me.”

Bo was not a good man, not even close. But the realization that your family had known you were down here and didn’t even try to help you made his blood boil. Coming around to the front of the chair, he saw that your mouth was bloody, that you had ripped your lips apart. He saw the blood on your wrists from your attempts to get free, how you had even managed to slightly rip the tape around your torso. The bandana had slipped off, though Bo wasn’t focused on what was now revealed to him.

“Get away from me,” you hissed, your legs jerking forward, though with only a fraction of the force that you had been able to display earlier.

“Did they just leave you here all alone?” he crooned, running a finger along your jaw.

“Yep.” You did your best to hide it, but he could tell that you were hurt. Bo could feel his mind starting to change and he wanted to stop it. Getting rid of you would be so easy. He could just pick up a knife and his problem would be over. When he picked up the closest blade, you reared back like a wild horse and Bo was reminded of the risks of keeping you alive.

But the knife sliced along the tape wound around your torso and then your wrists. Bo set it aside to undo the straps and carried you over to the mattress on the other side of the room. He wasn’t going to free your legs just yet. You hadn’t made him that soft.

“You sick fuck!” you did your best to scream and try to get off the mattress as Bo took off his work shirt. But your efforts only made you flop to the side and he sighed, tossing the shirt at you.

“Figured you might want to cover up,” he drawled. You were still glaring at him as you righted yourself and put on his shirt. It practically swallowed you up, making you even tinier, more vulnerable. Goddammit, Bo thought as he watched you poorly button it up. This was the worst idea he’d ever had, but he couldn’t help himself. “So, that was your entire family?” You nodded, shrinking away from him. “You’re all alone now.”

“Rub it in, what don’tcha?” you muttered, bringing your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around them.

“Not trying to.” Bo retorted, coming to grips with the choice he was about to make. “You hungry?”

“What?” You sounded more confused than scared, your brows knitting together.

“It’s breakfast time. I haven’t seen you eat since you got here, so I figured you could use a meal, babygirl.” Bo smirked, his eyes traveling down your body before returning to your face. You were starting to relax, but there was still wariness in your eyes as you nodded. He knelt in front of you, running a hand along your calf before he sliced the tape around your legs off, completely freeing you.

Either this was going to be the best decision he ever made, or the worst.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tension continues to build between you and Bo.

“These would look great on you, Little Bit,” Bo drawled as he held up what was supposed to be underwear, but looked more like a cheap scrap of lace. You rolled your eyes and flipped him off before going back to looking through the bins, trying to find something you liked in your size. You had flipped Bo off more times than you could count in the past month and a half or so.

The two of you had walked to the Sinclair house in silence. You had caught a glimpse of yourself in a window. When you had tried to outrun Bo the night before, you had rolled down a hill and there was still dirt streaked all over your skin. Your mouth was bloody, your hair was a mess and Bo’s shirt was so big that it almost looked like you weren’t wearing any pants. Bo had snorted when he had caught you looking but you had been too tired, emotionally and physically, to snark back.

Lester had been cooking breakfast, the smell of bacon filing the house. Bo had basically shoved you into a chair, ignoring his brother’s questions as he had gotten a cup of coffee. You had forced yourself to eat the meal of bacon and eggs. Bo had gone to talk to Vincent in another room, leaving you with Lester. You hadn’t said much, picking at your food as he had chattered away.

After a brief tour of the house, which had been mainly Bo telling you where not to go, you had passed out on the couch until the late afternoon. You had woken up to a dog licking your face, sweet Jonesy. The two of you had hung out until dinner, which had been nearly the same as breakfast, though Vincent was actually there this time. Lester had asked Bo what you were doing here, why you were here and it seemed that it wasn’t the first time he had asked, as Bo had snapped at his brother.

“You spent years bitchin’ and whining for a little sister, so I got you one. Now shut the fuck up!” Bo had yelled, slamming a palm on the table. You had jumped a little bit, but had managed to muster up a glare. Lester had ignored it all, excited to have a new member of the family. He would soon start calling you Sis or Sissy and soon, you were calling him Bubba. Normally you would have been suspicious, but Lester had been so genuine that you couldn’t even think that it was a manipulation tactic. The two of you quickly bonded over Jonesy and television that night, chattering away until it was time for bed.

Bo had grabbed you by the upper arm and told you that he was taking you to your room. Which turned out to be a bathroom with a pillow and blanket in the tub. Bo had installed a lock on the outside of the door, locking you in for the night. The bathroom had no windows, so you couldn’t escape. Not that you had any real desire to. After all, you had nowhere to go. The lock was long gone by now, though you still had been locked in there every night for over a week.

It took you longer to get to know Vincent, as he tended to vanish from rooms you walked into. But eventually, with some help from Lester, the two of you slowly began to bond. The silences became comfortable. He was your Bro, simple as that.

To both of your surprises, Vincent had been the one you had opened up to about the painful parts of you life before Ambrose. One evening the two of you had been watching some sitcom and you had offered to braid his hair. As you had combed his hair, it had slipped out that you had done this with your sister all the time, your words trailing off. While you had given Vincent a French braid, you had told him about Holly. The two of you had been identical twins, with rituals and language that was all your own. You had mentioned how the two of you would braid your hair together, literally, so you were attached. There had been a pause after you had realized what you had said. But Vincent had asked what had happened to her, ending the silence. You had told him about the car accident that had killed Holly and your father, leaving you alone in the world at nine years old. That you hadn’t felt like a part of your blood family and Vincent and Lester felt more like kin than they ever had.

After all, there were reasons why you weren’t sad that they were gone.

By now, you were almost entirely settled in Ambrose. After two weeks, you had been able to convince Bo to let you leave the house because if you had to spend one more day trying to fix up the nightmare that was the Sinclair house, you were going to tear out your hair and tear off your tits. After what felt like hours of negotiating and arguing, an agreement had been reached. You would take care of the puppies, so no one else would have to waste time on that. Sometimes, Bo would think of something else for you to do after that. Bo had insisted that you check in every hour, that had been dropped after a few days because even Bo had been able to admit that you could be trusted to not run off. Though he had added that he doubted you could make it out there on your own.

It was weird that you had adjusted at all, but the cherry on top was that you were happy. There was plenty to do, you got to play with puppies until it had been time for Lester to take them to the city so they could find new homes. You had wound up keeping the runt of the litter, naming her Sadie. Now you were never alone, as Sadie followed you everywhere.

A few evenings a week, Lester and you would listen to music in the living room and try to dance in between shooting the shit. Sometimes, you had been able to coax Vincent into joining the fun. You did try and teach them some things every now and then, but it was usually just for fun. Even when certain people acted like you were running around the house with scissors in one hand and a torch in the other.

Bo was a mixed bag. He had spared your life and hadn’t asked you to do anything ‘special’ to thank him. But he was also such an asshole, constantly sniping and glowering, bossing everyone around. Half the time, he acted like he was doing you a huge favor, though he had never explicitly said that he could have killed you, but he hadn’t and let you live in his family’s house.

Though you were sleeping in a bathtub, which had its drawbacks. Whenever you had a bad dream, you tended to thrash around in your sleep and would wake up when an arm or leg hit the side of the tub too hard. Come the morning, there would be a fresh bruise on your body.

You had worn Bo’s work shirt until your second morning, when he had brought you your backpack and asked for his shirt back in his usual crude way.

In response, you had taken it off and thrown it at him, not giving a damn about modesty.

You barely had any clothes of your own. As the trip was only supposed to be for a few days, you hadn’t packed a lot. Two pairs of shorts, two tank tops, a few pairs of underwear and the bandana. Which had gone missing at some point. Which meant that every two days, you would wash everyone’s clothes and stay in the laundry room in what had become your pajamas.

That second night, you had found a t-shirt in the tub, waiting for you. Later, you would find out that it had been Bo’s. You hadn’t packed any pajamas, an oversight you hadn’t been to upset about, figuring that you could buy something on the road.

After a few weeks of wearing the same shirts, you had mentioned being sick of it in passing during dinner. The next morning, Bo woke you up by dumping some of his ancient shirts on top of you, making you jolt awake and slam your leg against the tub. At least the shirts were soft and comfortable, so you wore them often.

While you and the other Sinclair boys got along like angels, Bo was another story. The two of you were constantly bickering, one of you able to get the other one going with almost no effort. Sometimes, there was yelling. The only time there had ever been any apologies came from you, after you had thrown the salt shaker at Bo’s head after he had insulted your cooking. It had been the first meal you’d ever made for them and his comments had just pushed you over the edge. Bo had accepted your apology and things were back to normal by morning.

The night before, you had asked Lester to give you a ride to town. You could no longer take the routine of doing laundry several times a week and you had run out of toiletries. Money wasn’t the problem. You had quite the stack of cash from tips, as you had taken your tip box with you to prevent any of the sketchballs your roommates brought around from stealing your money. Both your mother and step-father had plenty of cash as well. All you needed was a ride.

Bo had shut Lester up before the he could speak, seemingly rejecting the idea. But during breakfast that morning, he had told you to be ready in ten minutes or he was leaving without you.

And that was how you had wound up in the Target intimates section with Bo Sinclair. He had followed you there instead of going off on his own. You wanted to strangle him, but that was how you felt at least half the time you were around him. So it was a normal day.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” You glanced over at him as you made your final choices.

“Gotta keep an eye on you.” Bo peered into your basket and smirked. You had gotten mostly practical things, nothing too fancy.

“You can do that from a distance, Sinclair. Unless you’re watching me because you need fresh jerk off material.”

“It’s like you can read my mind, sweetheart.” Bo’s smirk made you clench your thighs together, something that you barely even noticed.

From the moment you had laid eyes on Bo, you had been attracted to him. How could you not? He was literally tall, dark and handsome. Combined with his accent and the banter you two had exchanged before things had taken a sharp left turn, it was no wonder that you had wanted to fuck him. You had hoped that the car wouldn’t be fixed until the next day, that you would have to stay the night and you would at least be able to have a good time at some point during the trip.

Of course, things hadn’t gone the way you had thought they would. And while you were still attracted to Bo, you couldn’t exactly forget the whole ‘taping you to a chair, and gluing your mouth shut’ thing. It created all sorts of weird emotions that just made you more upset and then that bled over into your interactions with Bo. Because, for some, you still wanted to fuck his brains out. You enjoyed seeing him work on cars or just doing any sort of manual labor. When you watched him work, it was one of the few times you were quiet around him.

He was a stick in the mud, a grouchy old man in an extremely fuckable body. He was bossy, arrogant. He had fucking taped you to a chair and glued your mouth shut.

And you still fantasized about him. Late at night, in the bathtub that doubled as your bed, you would think about Bo and you would have to cover your mouth with one hand as the other relieved the day’s tension as thoughts of Bo Sinclair danced through your mind.

“God, you’re gross.” You rolled your eyes and walked away, heading to the clothing section.

Bo followed you, an arm going around your shoulders out of nowhere. It felt natural, as if you were normal people. “You like it, babygirl,” he whispered in your ear, gently tugging on a stray curl

And Lord help you, he was right.

When you got in line, Bo went to get the car. Once you were sure he was gone, you went back for that scrap of lace with calling itself a thong, along with a few other things that you knew Bo would have commented on. 

—

The night, as the four of you watched some movie on TV, Vincent in an easy chair, Lester on the floor with Jonesy and you and Bo on the couch with Sadie in your lap, Bo thought of how you could be the death of him one day.

Sparing you had surprised his brothers and since he couldn’t explain it to himself, he didn’t bother to make up a lie. He had decided to keep you around and that was it. He ordered Vincent to not bother making your family into wax, though that time Bo had told his twin that he just didn’t want to have to look at them. That was the truth and he didn’t think they deserved it because they were cowardly sacks of shit. Why waste Vincent’s talents on them?

Seeing you come down for breakfast in his old New Orleans Saints t-shirt that fell to midway down your thighs never failed to make Bo feel that thrill. He liked seeing you in his clothes, enough that he had gone through a box in the attic for some that he thought would look good on you. Of course, he had felt weird about it in the morning and had just dumped them on your head.

You were a little firecracker and every time you sparked up, he was reminded of why he liked so you much, along with being infuriated and a little turned on. Sometimes very turned on. When you had snapped and thrown his shirt at him, the fire in your eyes had been what turned him on the most, your tits coming in second.

The fact that you didn’t wear a bra had become very obvious very quickly. Seeing the outline of your breasts under his shirts, knowing that there was nothing between your body and the fabric excited Bo more than if you had been walking around wearing just that bandana again. The bandana that he had jerked off with and had thrown out so no one would ever find out what he had done.

Maybe a part of Bo had even been jealous when he had overheard you say that Vincent and Lester were like family and his name hadn’t even been mentioned. Though, considering the kind of thoughts he had about you, it was probably for the best that you didn’t see him as a brother. Earlier, he had caught some frat boy type checking you out, so he had put his arm around your shoulders. Bo had emphasized his point by leaning in real close and playing with your hair, staking his claim without even having to look at the guy. Not exactly a brotherly thing to do.

Later that night, sometime past one in the morning, Bo got up to take a piss in the downstairs bathroom, since you were sleeping in the upstairs one. On his way back to his room, he heard noises coming from the bathroom you slept in. You were whimpering and something thumped against the tub, followed by a sharp gasp. Without thinking about it, Bo pushed the door open and cut on the light. You were awake, blinking furiously from the sudden flood of light. Once you stopped, Bo noticed your teary eyes and he did not like that. He didn’t even realize that you were still wearing his shirt to bed, even though you could have gotten yourself actual pajamas today.

“What’s wrong, Lil Bit?” He asked, his words like honey.

“Nothing. Just a bad dream.” You were rubbing your elbow, wincing a little.

Bo stared at you for a few moments. “Get out. Grab your shit.” You obliged, Bo suddenly lifting you up once you had your pillow and blanket, carrying you into his room and dropping you onto the bed. “What?” He asked when he saw the questioning look on your face.

“What’s going on here?” You asked, your eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Bo snorted. “You make too much noise in there. Might as well have you in here where you can’t bang around and wake up half the house.”

“You’re the one who put me in there,” you replied.

“And now you’re in here. Move over, we both have shit to do in the morning.”

It took you a while to fall asleep. You listened to the sound of Bo’s breathing, only relaxing when you knew he was fast asleep. But even so, you lay there for a while, wondering what this meant, if it meant anything at all.

—

Sharing a bed with Bo wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. In fact, it was actually nice, in its own way. Aside from it being way more comfortable than the tub, it was nice to have someone in bed with you. It made you feel less alone to hear Bo’s breathing and feel his presence. He didn’t try anything with you and you didn’t try anything with him, but the thoughts plagued you when you allowed your mind to wander.

One Sunday evening, a little over a week after you and Bo had started sharing a bed, was another dancing night. With the stereo playing a mixtape, you and Lester were dancing around the family room as Vincent watched and Bo flipped through some car magazine. As Lester spun you around, he went a little too wild with it and nearly threw you into the wall, the dogs barking when you nearly fell on them.

“Shit, Lester, you’re gonna break her one day,” Bo snarked, barely looking up from the magazine.

“What, like you could do any better?” You fired back.

“Course I can.”

“Then prove it.”

As ‘Sex and Candy’ began to play, Bo grabbed you, pulling you close. “Arms around my neck, sweetheart,” he whispered in your ear as his hands went to your hips. Your arms went loosely around his neck and then the two of you began to dance. Your bodies were a little closer than they needed to be, Bo spinning you just a bit and then pulling you even closer. By the end of the song, your bodies were pressed together. You could smell his breath and Old Spice, a shiver running down your spine.

Bo left without a word, storming off outside. The rest of the evening was a little awkward, since seeing your brother and sister, even if the latter wasn’t blood related, dance like that was weird. You were a bit hot and bothered, a cold shower barely calming you down. The bedroom was empty when you went to turn in for the night and you were still awake when Bo stumbled into the room, smelling like booze and cigarettes. He just stripped down to his boxers and climbed into bed, the two of you now facing each other and only a little more than a hand’s width of space between your bodies.

It would be so easy to just do it. Give into temptation and finally make fantasy a reality. You could feel him even though you weren’t touching. His breath washed over your face, his breathing harsh and you realized that he had to be thinking the same things as you. That he wanted you as much as you wanted him.

One of your hands reached out and cupped his face. You could have sworn that Bo leaned into your touch.

But in a flash, he pushed your hand away and turned away, pulling the covers over his body. The moment was gone and you turned away as well, staring at the wall until you eventually drifted off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

When Bo woke up in the middle of the night and you weren’t in bed, he didn’t worry. You always came back within a few minutes, climbing over his body to get to your side of the bed and he would relax, falling asleep within a few minutes after your return. But when you didn’t return after those usual few minutes one night, Bo started to wonder. Eventually he got out of bed to look for you, though he would only admit, even to himself, that he wanted to get you back to bed so you wouldn’t wake him up when you came back to bed. Though you never had before. 

It didn’t take him long to find you, since he had a pretty good idea of where you would be. For the past few days, you had been working on a project in the backyard. It took you several days to set it up and you hadn’t told them what you were doing until it was done, going around town to find what you needed. You had arranged a bunch of rocks in the shape of a heart, with an angel statue in the middle. Some butterfly garden stakes were shoved into the earth and you had found some small fairy figurines to put on the grass. When you had finished, you had told them what you had made. It was a memorial for your sister, since the anniversary was coming up. 

That was where Bo found you, sitting on a blanket, arms around your knees and looking at some pictures that you had laid out in front of you. He crouched next to you, taking a look at them as well. Some of them featured a man that he assumed was your father. But in all of them, you were with another girl and it truly hit him that you had been a twin. Because he was looking at the evidence. Pictures of you with a girl that looked exactly like you, the two of you even dressed the same in some of them. Once again, he thought of how he would feel if he lost Vincent and deep down, it hurt just thinking about it. 

“Sometimes, I get a look at myself and I wonder what she would have done with our face. Our hair. Our body. And then it’s like…this isn’t really my face. At least not just my face, because it used to be hers, but it isn’t anymore because she’s dead. She was just a kid and because some asshole ran a stop sign, she’s gonna stay one forever. Holly was the good twin and she fucking died because someone else was stupid, and you can’t tell me that the world is fair.” You had noticed he was there, and you started talking, eventually culminating in an angry rant. “With my dad…it’s still painful but I’ve accepted it. But Holly being gone…I fucking can’t.” Bo couldn’t think of anything to say because he wouldn’t know what to do either. 

So, he didn’t say anything. Instead, Bo gathered you up in his arms and pulled you onto his lap, cradling you to his chest, stroking your hair as you began to cry. One bad twin comforting another. When he did speak, he just murmured “It’s okay, babygirl. I got you,” kissing the top of your head. 

\--

A few days later, you got to return the favor. 

Dinner had come and gone, but Bo hadn’t returned to the house yet. Usually he at least stopped by for dinner before going back to work if he was busy. But there hadn’t been a sign of him since that morning. By ten pm, you were worried, so you went to go look for him, leaving Sadie at the house as you wandered the streets of Ambrose. 

Eventually, you found Bo in the House of Wax. It had been the last place you had had decided to look before you would have gone into the woods. But there he was, sitting on the floor with a bottle of whiskey, staring at the highchairs with the closest thing you had ever seen to a haunted expression on his face. 

You hadn’t been explicitly told what their childhood had been like. But seeing Bo’s wrists, the highchair with his name on it and how they all behaved in general had given you a pretty good idea of what it had been like. It did explain the ritual in the chair, as you had dubbed it, though it didn’t excuse it. 

Settling next to him, you just sat there in silence for a little while. If he wanted to talk, then you would listen. If he didn’t, then you wouldn’t push him. You would do for him what he had done for you. 

“Fucked up, ain’t it?” Bo muttered after a long period of silence. 

“Yeah,” you agreed softly. There was another pause, Bo taking a long swig of whiskey. “You didn’t deserve it.” Bo snorted in response, clearly not buying what you were selling. After spending his entire childhood being told that he was naturally rotten, he automatically denied anything to the contrary. It didn’t sound right, plain and simple 

You knelt in front of him, settling between his legs and taking his face in your hands. “Listen to me, Bo. You didn’t deserve any of it. You were a fucking baby. It wasn’t your responsibility. What they did wasn’t right. You’re not whatever they said you were, I promise.” You could smell the whiskey and cigarettes, feel his hot breath on your face. “It wasn’t your fault,” you whispered, still looking him in the eyes. Your hands left his face so you could pull him into the most awkward hug you had ever given. 

As soon as you began to pull back, Bo grabbed you, tugging you onto his lap, your legs winding up on either side of him. “You’re such a sweet lil thing, babygirl,” he whispered, tracing your lower lip with his thumb, reminding you of that first night. You were even wearing the same lip balm. But this time, you didn’t try and claw his eyes out, even when he wrapped his arms around you and buried his face in your chest. “Love the way you look in my shirts.” You were wearing a shirt that had once advertised some beer brand, but it was nearly entirely faded by now, hanging loosely on your small frame.

“Bo, you’re drunk.” You sounded more concerned than upset, gently stroking his hair. “C’mon, let’s go home.” 

“Not that drunk,” he countered, looking up at you. Which was true. He wasn’t drunk enough to let it slip that the Polaroids in the room below the station were starting to be replaced by ones of you. Bo was good at taking pictures of people without them knowing. He had pictures of you sleeping, doing chores around the house, doing your work around town, playing with the dogs, dancing, even some of you changing, taken through a window. But he was drunk enough to let a fraction of his guard down, let you see him like this. Drunk enough to go after what he wanted when he had been denying himself for months. “First time I saw you, I wanted you. Thought about throwin’ you over my shoulder…” Bo’s hands crept under the hem of your shirt, sliding up your back. 

“Don’t say things you don’t mean.” Your heart was starting to beat faster as you felt his fingers on your bare skin, his thumbs resting under the curve of your breasts. “Bo…” You shifted in his lap, feeling how hard he was starting to become, moaning when you felt him twitch. That was what pushed Bo over the edge, his hands coming out from under your shirt to grab your head, bringing you in for a kiss that tasted of booze and smokes, his tongue shoving into your mouth with no preamble. 

Suddenly, Bo stood up, grabbing you and carrying you over to the nearest wall, shoving you against it. He hastily undid your shorts, leaving them on one leg, wrapping the free leg around his waist. Bo remained fully dressed, only unzipping his pants and fishing out his cock. When he thrust into you, you let out a groan that was a mix of pain and pleasure as your legs wrapped around him. It had been a while for you and Bo was thicker than anyone else you had been with, certainly thicker than your fingers. Which had been what you had been making do with over the past few months. Your hand crept between your bodies, fingers going to your clit so you could relax enough to speed up the initial awkwardness. 

Soon, the two of you were moaning softly in between desperate, hungry kisses, your hands all over each other. “Fuck, babygirl, you feel so fuckin’ good. So warm and tight. Like this little pussy was made just for me,” Bo murmured in your ear as he gave a particularly hard thrust, your only response a sharp cry of pleasure. “Wanna fuck you full of my cum, darlin’. I meant it when I said you’d be a good lil mama one day.” He pushed the neckline of your shirt aside to bite your shoulder, his fingers going back to your clit to push you over the edge with him, Bo filling you up as he had drunkenly promised. You had been caught up in the moment, crying out yes to an idea that you…well maybe you would have been in agreement with anyway, even with a clearer head. 

There were a few moments where Bo just stayed pressed against you, looking at your sweaty face, your heaving chest and the mess between your legs that was created when he pulled out. It seemed to hit him all at once and before you could say a word, Bo was gone.

\--

It was nearly a week before you saw Bo again. He was a master at avoiding people when he wanted to be, so no one saw him for days. The other Sinclair boys didn’t seem that concerned about him being gone. “He just gets like that sometimes,” Lester had said, shrugging it off. You had nodded, acting like it was no big deal. The only sign of him for days was the box of Plan B left on the bed the evening after the two of you had fucked. 

At least he was considerate in some ways. 

You ripped up the packaging, destroying it beyond recognition, burning what you could, so no one else would know what had happened. The others had didn’t suspect anything, which you were thankful for. You weren’t even sure where you stood, so how could you talk about it with them? _Oh yeah, your brother and ‘sister’ fucked in of the house of wax while he was drunk and I was sober and he came inside me, but I liked it, so no big deal guys._

The plan was to take this to your grave, as far as you were concerned. 

Even when Bo started coming back around, he didn’t sleep in his bed. He seemed to be sleeping down at the gas station unless you had fallen asleep on the couch or were sleeping in the hammock that you had set up in the yard. The hammock helped deflect suspicion a great deal, since you sleeping in it provided a great reason for why you and Bo weren’t roommates anymore. 

Sometimes, Bo wasn’t able to help himself. Late at night, he would creep up to his room and just watch you for a little while. One night, he saw you with your arms and legs wrapped around his pillow, your face buried in it and he was tempted to join you, his sober mind in on the action now. But Bo was able to resist temptation. It had been a mistake, he told himself. He had been drunk and horny, and you had been right there. That was all. 

Though he still took a picture of you like that and stuck it on the wall. 

\--

Every now and then, Lester and Bo would go to one of the nearby towns and have drinks at the local bar. Until tonight, you had always stayed behind, either because you weren’t allowed to go or because you didn’t want to. But when Lester had invited you this time, you had decided to go. Why not? You needed to interact with people who weren’t Sinclairs. 

So, you came along, wearing a tube top and the same Daisy Dukes you had been wearing on your first day in Ambrose. Bo gave you a long look as he watched you approach the truck, the closest that the two of you had come to acknowledging what had happened a few weeks ago. The two of you were talking again but chose your words carefully. 

As the three of you walked into the bar, Bo had been overcome with the urge to put an arm around your shoulder, mark his territory. He caught some guys looking at you, which he can’t blame them for. Hell, he would be looking too if he were one of them. But he’s not. 

“Hey, Lester it’s been a while. And who are these fine folks you brought with ya?” the bartender asked as the three of you took your seats. 

“This here is my big brother, Bo, and my baby sister, Y/N,” Lester said proudly. The bartender’s eyes flick back and forth between you and the brothers, likely wondering if you’re a half-sibling or maybe adopted. After all, you don’t look a thing like them.

Bo silently curses Lester for that, since it basically gives the assholes around here free reign to approach. He can already see some dude at the other end of the bar giving you the eye, which you seemed oblivious to. 

After nursing a beer for a while, you decided to go over to the jukebox and play a few songs, dance out the tension that has been building up in your bones for weeks that’s been getting worse all night. Seeing most of the women in the bar eyeing up Bo did not help one bit. Even though he was not your property, you could not help but feel a bit jealous. 

Midway through dancing to ‘You Shook Me All Night Long’, a guy approached and asked if he could join you. You quickly appraised him and nodded. He was cute enough, tall with a buzzcut and a quasi-badboy aura. He would do just fine as someone to pass the time with. In your previous life, you might have even gone home with him, if he had asked. Maybe you still would. 

The guy told you his name during the pause between songs, but you hardly heard it, only nodding and barely remembering to tell him yours before Marilyn Manson’s cover of ‘Sweet Dreams’ began. The guy took hold of your hips gently, as if you were made of glass. You wanted to tell him that you weren’t, but he didn’t seem like he would get it. 

_Some of them want to use you_   
_Some of them want to get used by you_

As if on cue, Bo arrived with those lyrics. He grabbed the guy you were dancing with by the shoulder and pushed him aside. “Let me show you how a real man dances with a lady,” he sneered. His hands grabbed your hips with just the right amount of roughness, making you think of that night. The look in his eyes told you that he was thinking of it as well. 

There was almost no space between your bodies, your arms around his neck and his hands on your hips once again. The way the two of you were dancing was not very sibling-like at all, raising some questions in the minds of the people who had assumed that the two of you were related somehow. The dance ended like the last one the two of you had shared: with Bo storming off. This time, he headed to the bar bathroom, leaving you standing there just as confused as you had been that night. 

Though it wasn’t enough to fully scare off Buzzcut. Maybe he had drunk a beer too many or maybe he was just an idiot. Either way, Buzzcut approached you again and the two of you went to talk at his table for a while. It was the basic small talk you have with a stranger before the two of you snuck off to the alleyway to do God knows what. 

In your case, it was more like go behind the bar and start making out by the dumpster, but it was still something. You needed to get Bo out of your system. You needed the memory of his mouth, his hands, his body flushed out of you and replaced with someone else. Anyone else. Even this rando that you planned to never see again. 

Inside the bar, Bo was asking where you had gone, suddenly noticing your disappearance. He hadn’t been paying you any mind for a while and when he decided to, you were gone. It took him a couple of minutes to learn that you had left with that asshole, which sent a white-hot flash of rage through him. Deep down, he knows that he should let you have your fun with a guy your own age. Bo didn’t own you. He had pulled a ‘wham, bam, didn’t even thank you ma’am’ on you. And it wasn’t like you were going to run away and tattle. 

But that didn’t stop him from grabbing Buzzcut by the collar and pulling him off you, punching the poor fuck in the face. 

“What the fuck, Bo!” you screamed, pushing yourself off the wall and adjusting your shirt. Buzzcut’s words were indecipherable between his maybe broken nose and his hands over his mouth and nose. “What the fuck is your problem?”

Lester had joined the three of you at this point, following Bo outside, realizing that trouble was afoot. At least he had left money to cover all of your beers, because the three of you split mere moments later, Bo dragging you over to the truck as Buzzcut yelled, still holding his face. 

\--

“What the fuck was that all about?” you yelled, storming into the gas station. After Bo had dropped you and Lester off at the house, he had driven off. Rather than take some time to cool down, you had followed him on foot, easily able to figure out where he had gone. The drive back to Ambrose had been silent, the air thick with tension. Walking down to the gas station had only made you angrier rather than calm you down. 

Bo looked over at you, his expression carefully blank. “I didn’t like the way he was all over you,” he said, doing his best to sound apathetic. 

“Well maybe I did!” You slammed your hand on the wall. Bo’s muscles tensed and he slowly turned to look at you, his expression dark, eyes focused on you. He approached you slowly, backing you against the wall. “Maybe I wanted to fuck him in that alley.”

“Watch your mouth, babygirl,” Bo warned, grabbing your chin in his hand, forcing you to look up at him. 

“Or what?” You snapped, looking up at him defiantly. “You gonna punish me, Daddy?”

Bo might have been able to hold on if not for the last word. But hearing you call him ‘Daddy’, with that little glint in your eyes and the memories of how it felt to fuck you…all of it came crashing down in his skull and he just grabbed you, slinging you over his shoulder and carrying you down to the room under the gas station. 

This time, he bypassed the chair, throwing you onto the mattress instead. You landed face first and before you could turn around, Bo was behind you, pulling your lower half upwards, yanking your shorts and panties off, tossing them to the floor. His hand came down on your ass, making you squeal and shudder. After a few more smacks, Bo got between your spread legs, one hand going to your neck, holding you gently, while he drove into you, both of you moaning at the sheer delight of having each other once again. 

This time, Bo was pounding you, making what had happened last time seem downright gentle in comparison. You were screaming this time, though it was mostly in pleasure. But every now and then, he would deliver another smack to your ass, reminding you that he was in charge right now. 

“You’re mine, babygirl,” he whispered in your ear. His hands were now on your hips, gripping them punishingly as he ravished you. “Understand?” His mouth dipped down to bite the back of your neck, wrenching a howl from you as you thrust back against him, now able to have some measure of control. You barely managed a nod, overcome with lust. “Good girl.” 


	4. Chapter 4

it was long past midnight. Utter silence had settled over Ambrose. The moon was full, allowing light to stream into the room that you shared with Bo. You were still awake when he came into the room, ready to turn in after a long day. Bo had come straight from the shower, not bothering to put on any clothes, knowing that you were there waiting for him. 

Before you could say a word, tell him what had been weighing on your mind all day, Bo was on you. He pinned you to the mattress with his body, his hands going into your hair so he could pull you close to him, claim your mouth with a fierce kiss. 

It was still a secret, whatever you and Bo had. He hadn’t said anything about telling his brothers in the last month and you didn’t want to push him. And you didn’t want to upset the balance of the home that you had made here. 

But it looked like you were going to have to. 

Moaning against his mouth, you pushed him back enough so you could speak. “Bo…Bo…” you managed to get out, even as his hand slipped under your shirt. “We gotta talk.”

“Do we, babygirl?” Bo whispered and kissed your neck, doing his best to distract you. And usually, that would work. But this was a pressing matter, one that you couldn’t delay talking about much longer. Even if it would be easier to put it off for another day and allow Bo to take you to that place that only he could bring you to.

“Yeah, we do.” You squirmed as his fingers slid under the waistband of your panties, which you probably shouldn’t have bothered wearing. It wasn’t like they would stay on for very long once Bo had you under him, just where he wanted. His fingers slid over your clit, making you gasp and arch your hips, rocking them for a few more moments before your next words came out. 

“Bo, I’m late.”

The words were oh so innocuous on their own, but the meaning behind them was enough to make Bo stop, retract his hand. “You’re what?” Bo’s voice was steady, somehow and you were trembling, backing away from him.

“I’m late. Only by a couple of days, so maybe nothing is wrong.” You had panicked when you had realized that you were late, thinking the worst. “But I thought you should know.”

The silence seemed to go on forever. Your heart began to pound furiously in your chest as you watched his expression. “Maybe it’s nothing. Sorry that I-.”

Bo grabbed your head and pulled you in for a kiss that made your toes curl and stole your breath. “You want that, Lil Bit?” He kissed you again, this time laying you on your back. “You wanna have my baby?”

“Maybe…” You groaned as his hands went between your legs once more, sliding your panties down your legs and tossing them to the side. 

“I think ya do. If ya didn’t, would you have told me before you were sure?” Bo did have a good point, you thought, though maybe he didn’t. It was hard to think when he was lifting your shirt over your head so his mouth and one of his hands could lavish attention on your breasts. His other hand was back between your legs, fingers running along your slit, occasionally teasing your clit. “Because you know how much I like the idea of you havin’ my babies.”

That was something else that you could not deny. Bo had never been shy about his desire to see you carrying his child, even when the two of you had first met, though at least then he had been subtle about it. Now, not so much. 

Bo kissed his way down your torso, playfully biting your thighs when he got there before his tongue mimicked what his fingers had done earlier. You had to place a pillow over your face to muffle the screams, so no one would be woken up and your secret could still be kept. 

“If ya are havin’ my baby, I’m gonna have to make an honest woman outta ya, babygirl.” Bo’s mouth stopped what it had been doing to you, making you tremble and whine as you were snatched back from the edge. “Mrs. Y/N Sinclair has a nice ring to it, dontcha think?”

“It does.” You wondered if this was an actual proposal, or if he was just throwing random things out there in the heat of passion. “Oh God yes, it does!” You got a little loud as his tongue went back to your clit, your legs furiously thrashing until his hands held them down, keeping you as still as possible as Bo made you come. 

After that, there was very little talking for the rest of the night. Bo made you come twice before he slid back up your body and slowly pushed inside of your sopping cunt, making love to you this time. Every movement was purposeful, as if he was trying to show you how much he adored you. It was a good thing that there wasn’t much talking, or else you might have let something slip, words that you had been holding back for some time. 

\--

It turned out that there wasn’t going to be a baby. 

The afternoon after that night, you had felt some cramping and your late visitor had arrived. At dinner, you had recused yourself early by saying you had cramps, your way of informing Bo that he was not going to be a father in eight or so months. 

That night, you had waited for him to show up, but Bo hadn’t come to bed. The next few weeks, it was the same. You slept alone. During the day, he ignored you, acting like he had when you had first come here. As if you were an inconvenience, a pest that he couldn’t just swat away. The bed felt lonelier than ever and most nights, you barely slept, making you a zombie during the day. Bo spent a lot of his time drinking, more than usual. Sometimes you could smell it on him during the day. 

It was as if everything he had said that night didn’t mean anything. That you didn’t mean anything. 

Your anger was kept bottled up as you went about your life. Of course, you still your part around Ambrose, despite your feelings towards Bo and the hurt that felt like it was growing larger with each passing day. 

Things wound up coming full circle, in a way. 

One night, after not seeing Bo for two days, you found yourself wandering the streets of Ambrose during the late hours, looking for him. And once again, you found him drinking in the house of wax. Unlike last time, you tried to wrestle the bottle from his hand. Bo put up a fight, resulting in the bottle shattering on the floor. 

“I’m not going to sit and watch you destroy yourself!” You shouted right in his face, something you wouldn’t have dared to do all those months ago. “What the fuck is going on, Bo? Why have you been acting this way?”

“Acting what way, Lil Bit?” Bo’s words were slurred as he advanced on you, making you back away.

“Like a fucking asshole! You’ve been drinking all the time and treating everyone like shit! I don’t know what your problem is, but you can’t just take it out on us and expect us to fix things without knowing what you want!” 

“I’m being a fucking asshole?” Bo sneered as he shoved you against the wall. “I’m the one bein’ a fucking asshole?”

“Yeah! Surprise, I have feelings and you hurt them! By being such an-.” 

Bo grabbed your face in his hand and viciously kissed you, using his teeth and tongue to cow you into submission long enough to rip your shirt off, tossing the thin t-shirt to the floor. The sight of your bra made Bo growl and you glared at him, daring him to do something about it. 

That something turned out to be digging his pocketknife out of his pants and cutting it off. For a moment, the blade lingered on the space between your breasts, as if he was teasing you. But Bo decided that it was to be a game for another time, putting the knife back into his pocket. You grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked him down for a kiss, shoving your tongue into his mouth, biting his lower lip. In response, he smacked your flank, which only spurred you on more.

The only item of clothing not ruined by the time Bo turned your naked body around to face the wall were your shorts, only because they were made of denim, which wasn’t easy to rip or slice apart with a simple pocketknife. He had a handful of your hair in his fist, yanking as he shoved his cock into you. Your head was forced back and the bite to your neck was painful, making you howl and drive an elbow into his side, earning a hard smack to your ass in response. 

“Did it ever occur to you that you’re hurtin’ me too?” Bo harshly whispered as his thrusts became more erratic, his fingers rubbing your clit at a punishing pace even though you were coming already. Tears gathered at your eyes as your over-sensitive body was pushed past its limits. You couldn’t even speak as Bo gave one final thrust and came deep inside of you, roughly pulling out, leaving you standing there with shaking legs. He left his work shirt on the floor for you to wear home, the closest thing he would be giving you to aftercare. 

\--

Nothing changed after that night. You had walked home wearing his shirt, thankfully not running into any of the other brothers. You had needed to wear makeup for days afterwards, to hide the bite mark that Bo had left on your neck, marking you as his for no one to see.

But of course, the other Sinclairs had noticed something was going on. They had known since before it had officially started. The two of you slept in the same bed and after that night at the bar, their suspicions had been confirmed. And the two of you had not been as quiet as you had thought. The bed did creak and even when Bo had his hand over your mouth, he didn’t do very much to keep himself quiet. 

A few days after that night in the house of wax, Vincent found Bo in the room under the gas station. You had been crying in the laundry room that afternoon, weeping into one of Bo’s shirts and that had been the last straw. After a short talk with you, Vincent had tracked his twin down to his ‘secret’ room. It had been a while since he had been down there. By now, the Polaroids on the wall were all of you. Most of them weren’t even dirty ones and more than half had been taken when you knew he had the camera, as opposed to the more voyeuristic shots.

“You love her, don’t you?” Vincent asked, though it wasn’t really a question. 

“Was it that obvious?” Bo didn’t even sound angry, more annoyed than anything else. At this point, he knew better than to try and hide anything from Vincent. “I was gonna give her this.” He gestured to the ring on his hand. “Make an honest woman outta her.” Well, as honest as he could, being that the two of you probably would not go to an actual, functioning courthouse and sign a license. But he would have slipped that 

“You should do it. She loves you. But she told me that sometimes she doesn’t know why she’s still here.” Vincent hadn’t meant for it to come out as a guilt trip or a threat, but he realized how it could have sounded after he had been done talking. But Bo stormed out anyway, spurred to action that Vincent thought he would only take after a lot of talking. 

When Bo found you, you were in the bedroom, putting away the laundry. “Heard you were thinkin’ about leavin’.”

“Have no idea where you heard that.” You glared at him, shoving his clothes into the dresser, not caring for organizing a damn thing. “But I do wonder why I bother sticking around instead of moving out. Finding my own place in town. Because you’re done with me, aren’t you?”

“That ain’t it, babygirl and you know it.”

“No, I don’t. Enlighten me. Because you were the one who wanted to keep what we were doing a secret. Were you ashamed or something?” You began to leave the room, despite your words, and Bo had to grab your arm to keep you from walking away from him. 

“You’re the one who didn’t even bother to tell me we weren’t havin’ a baby in private. If anyone was keeping it a secret, it was you, Lil Bit.”

“Well, at least I meant everything I said. You’re the liar. I would have been Mrs. Bo Sinclair in a heartbeat if you had actually asked me. But you fucking just…abandoned me. Like everyone else!” 

In seconds, the two of you had gotten to the root of things. Neither of you wanted to feel like second best, both of you wanted to be the one the other wanted more than anyone else. And yet, the two of you had hurt each other and yourselves in your attempts to avoid just that. 

“Trust me, Y/N, I am not gonna let you go.” 

The amount of times of Bo had used your first name outside of sex could be counted on your hands. So your head snapped to attention and you had to blink back tears as he slid the ring off his finger and forced it into your hand. He wasn’t going to use his words to ask you again, but you knew what this meant and you nodded, squeezing the ring as you kissed him, whispering “Yes, I will, yes.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, I've finished a fic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are two endings. First is the official one and the second is an angsty alternate/non-offical ending that I wrote while in a dark place a short while back. The alternate ending is after the line break, takes place in an AU of sorts

“I left you money on the counter, but you don't have the right size.”

Bo rolled his eyes at the guy’s excuse, not trusting him as far as he could throw him. “Let me check in the back,” he said, jerking his thumb in the general direction of the back room. The couple both nodded and Bo headed towards the back room. He heard the girl say something about the others going to some game just as he caught sight of the box of fifteen-inch fan belts. That could be a problem, if their friends had indeed left.

Out in the main area of the shop, Carly and Wade were starting to get a little antsy. Bo was starting to take a little too long, as least for their liking. So, when the door to the shop opened up again, both of them nearly jumped out of their skins.

“Hey, hey, calm down folks.” You held up your free hand and took a step back, holding the child on your hip a little closer. They noted that you looked to be a few years older than they were and that your little girl was about a year and a half old, with vaguely familiar blue eyes and hair nearly identical to yours. Your floral dress seemed to purposefully emphasize that you were going to have another one, your condition rather noticeable.

“Who are you?” A reasonable question, but the tone it was asked in made it seem room.

“My wife,” Bo said as he returned from the back room, fan belt in hand.

“Your wife?” Carly looked back and forth and you nodded, forcing back a cat ate the canary smile.

“Name’s Daisy.” You didn’t offer either of them your hand for a shake. The alias was a nod to the pattern of the bandana you had been wearing the day you had come to Ambrose. It had taken Bo over a year after the two of you had gotten together officially to admit that he had used your bandana to jerk off with, which had made you laugh. “And this is Holly.” Your daughter reached for her father and Bo practically shoved the fan belt in Wade’s hands so he could take his little girl into his arms. Holly was a daddy’s girl through and through, her face lighting up as Bo held her.

On their way out, Sadie barked at the couple, as if telling them to get and stay out.

The whole family was at dinner, Holly eating her mac and cheese on Bo’s lap. He refused to put her in a highchair, he would rather be inconvenienced than put his baby girl in one of those things. Of course, the rest of the family would gladly take her sometimes. Vincent and Lester loved being uncles, delighting in all of the little moments that they hadn’t been able to experience growing up.

Bo especially enjoyed those. He greedily took in everything, feeling almost smug that he had a happy family now. Though that was more than earned. His parents had never believed he could be capable of creating anything good. But now Bo had a little girl that was the most perfect thing in the world, so they had been proven wrong. After dinner, you sat in the living room with Holly and read to her, Sadie on the couch next to you, so of course, Bo had to take a picture of the three of you.

That night, as you lay in bed with him, sated and smiling up at him, your finger tracing his jaw, Bo thanked whatever was out there that you had come to Ambrose. 

And as you looked up at him, you were thinking the exact same thing.

* * *

Stockholm Syndrome.

That was what the police, therapists, lawyers, the media, everyone in the damn world had reduced your time in Ambrose to, reduced your relationship with Bo to. Stockholm Syndrome.

The story was that you had been the sole survivor after the Sinclairs had caught your family. That Bo had kept you prisoner for that entire time and that you had tricked yourself into thinking you had fallen in love in order to survive. None of it was real, you had just done what you needed to do in order to survive.

The Jones twins had found you in the house after they had escaped the house of wax. You had seen the chaos from the bedroom window. Bo had told you to stay in the bedroom until he came to get you and in your current condition, you couldn’t exactly argue. When you had seen the Jones twins walking up to the house, you had been ready to surprise them with a metal bat, but Nick had been able to get the jump on you.

You had begun to cry, and they had assumed you were another victim.

The horror and disgust on Carly’s face when she had noticed that you were well into your second trimester had not left your mind’s eye since. The way she had whispered _Nick, she’s pregnant_ , had made it sound like an awful, ugly thing to have happened to you.

You’re safe now, the police are coming, it’s going to be alright.

No, it wasn’t.

Once again, you were alone in the world. Lester and you had not seen each other since, as if the two of you had agreed to never cross paths, lest he be taken down with the rest. He was in the wind, though the authorities weren’t looking for him too hard, if at all. You were staying with distant relatives from your father’s side, virtual strangers who didn’t know how to treat you.

The entire world thought you were a victim, someone to be looked down on and pitied. They saw your son as a monster even before Jack had been born. Carly had tried to be friendly, but you had refused to speak to her, or her brother and they had eventually gone away.

It was just you and little Jack, who didn’t bear a trace of his father’s name. But you could see Bo in his little face, and you could only hope that you would be able to let your son know that he had been made with love.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr @ lightofthemoonglow


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